


Shadows

by crankyfractal (upquarkAO3)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Romeo and Juliet References, Vampire Steve Rogers, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, eventual art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upquarkAO3/pseuds/crankyfractal
Summary: 'Monsters' are an elusive definition, yes?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The-Omni-Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The-Omni-Princess).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and so it begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For omni! Hope you enjoy :-) Merry Everything and (((allgoodthings))) in 2020!

_…in the shadows of the world_

_in the quiet and the dark_

_met two moon-crossed souls born to break each others’ hearts_

_~_

Walking on long legs among the longer moon-cast shadows between the evergreens he stepped easily, but not as silently as he would’ve liked. The thin crust on the snowy surface had refrozen after the cold battle with winter’s weak sun; but it wasn’t strong enough to support his weight.

But not much would be.

Bucky looked down, then back the way he’d come. The prints he’d left on the drifts were oddly shaped and as unique as he was now. This was the first time he (or anything else) had ever seen them, and that knowledge sent a thrill singing through his blood.

He grinned into the deepening evening, sieving the frigid wind between teeth that looked nothing like what he’d had before; because they weren’t. Moonlight slicked off long, silver fangs as he opened his new mouth to howl for the first time. The sound sang in rills far around him, sailing like thistledown on wind and intention.

From behind him came a few answering bays, joyous in his celebration. For a time they volleyed back and forth; warp and weft of audible tapestry over the foothills between them.

It was beautiful.

Ethereal.

Terrifying.

All the things he was now, too.

Bucky started running - faster, further and **_with more ease_ ** than he ever had in his young life.

He threaded through the trees, nearly flying over rocks and scree as he climbed. Swift as thought and silent as a ghost his feet carried him up until he finally slowed, stopped and turned back to look.

So familiar. So new.

Under the stars and the ripe moon the valleys bled away into darkness beneath his sight, but still – he could see _so far_ and _so well_ . And the sounds! **All** the sounds, reverberating and rippling in endless eddies over and around and through one another. Cavorting, almost. The complexity was enchanting, a siren’s song others had been lost to, but he knew he’d become accustomed. All of his family had; he would as well. He had faith in his history more than his unproven will as of yet.

But knowing himself, he’d miss the intricacy of these sensory details when he walked in human skin again.

Bucky took a deep breath, feeling the cold air rush deep, deep, deeper into new lungs. Air hunger was something he should never experience in this form, but it still felt good to pull huge draughts of night from the skies and make it this body’s own. **His** body.

He opened his mouth and lolled his tongue; then wished he could smile as he did when a boy.

Scent was such a new experience this way – so strong Bucky could almost taste it. And so many! Sharp tang of conifers, layered and patterned like a thick quilt. Trill of woodsmoke from a far-away fire. Rasp of snow tickling his nose. Enticing pungency of scattered warm hearts, all beating a mandala of panic as every creature nearby knew, knew down to their very bones that a new predator unique among all walked among them.

And would for the rest of this first, most precious evening fully himself at last.

The next howl was for himself alone - joy and new freedom ringing under the stars.

…..

After a long night of exploration, weary but more ecstatic than ever, he finally was headed home. The late dawn of winter was barely becoming impertinent on the horizon when a new scent pulled him up short.

What _was_ that?

Bucky sniffed deeply, then huffed and shook his head. The scent was novel: thin, almost acrid. Death’s darker sister; strong with malevolent intelligence – but that didn’t make any sense! He inhaled again, using all of his new skills to parse this mystery when his ears pricked as well. Faint scrapes – a struggle – then a high shrill sound skating the edge of even his impressive range, horrible keening….then nothing at all. An absence so abrupt that he felt his hackles rise and curiosity breach the instinct roiling his blood.

**_‘home, go home: night’s nearly over’_ **

As a human adolescent, Bucky was cheeky and inquisitive. As a wolf, no less so. He bounded away down a narrow ravine leading toward the strange scent, clearing boulders and deadfall effortlessly.

Only once on the rift floor did he slow, treading cautiously with eyes sharp and ears alert.

He heard nothing – no heartbeat. No noise. **Nothing**.

Then he flicked an ear as the first notes of bird song rang out – and whined to himself. It was nearly daybreak and he’d have to listen to his blood and _hurry hurry hurry_ otherwise he’d be sliding home through the deep drifts on two legs instead of four.

But he was so close to the end; one last step, a turn and then…

There it was. There **he** was. Bucky stared, ice-blue eyes widening.

Splayed on a large rock was the body of a small boy. Slight, blond and with skin paler than the snow surrounding him. He **must** be lifeless as even Bucky’s sensitive new nose detected no wisp of warmth. His acute ears heard no trace of heartbeat. The wolf watched for a moment, suspended between fascination and fear, wondering at the odd scent and sight. And then a spark of early sunlight blinking through a drop of falling meltwater glanced off the pale cheek.

And the silent boy began to scream.

In panic.

In agony.

And then, seeing all of Bucky recoiling before him, in fear.

As the boy scrabbled backwards on his rock the sun finally breached the narrow walls. A broad stripe licked over the edge and where it landed the boy’s skin burned. A terrible welt rose over his neck and shoulder, but the sound the boy made was infinitely more horrifying. Bucky cringed before it, feeling the noise more otherworldly than even he was!

The boy crumbled off the rock, falling through pain back into unconsciousness (which Bucky privately thought might be a blessing). He leapt forward, reaching with his hands (oh **_NO_ ** his **_HANDS_ ** the sun had touched him now, too). He kept moving anyway, feeling grateful that for him the sun’s kiss was warmth, not scald. He was naked under his pelt but the size difference between himself as a human and his wolf was enough to wrap the strange boy completely and still cover himself up a bit.

Bucky struggled up the ravine, grumbling to himself even though his strange burden was light. Even new, he’d felt so… _at home_ …in his wolf, and he missed the form’s strength and power. But even at the cusp of thirteen years he was not weak, and so even with his unexpected bundle tightly clasped he did finally return to the outskirts of his little village further down the slopes by midmorning.

Just in time for his father to come running to meet him and shake him hard by the scruff of the neck as a frightened parent might any wayward cub.

“James BuCHANen! Do you know how worried we’ve been?! Such abuse of privilege on your First Night - I was just sending out the Searchers!! What are you doing…what…” he finally paused to examine his son’s close-held burden, “…do you have in your pelt?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky answered honestly. “Da, I’m sorry. I was on my way back when…this happened and I made the Change before I could howl Clear.”

His father went to pull back the edge of Bucky’s wolf ruff and was surprised when his son flinched away. Then worried when he heard, “No sun, Da! It hurts him.”

“’Him’ huh. Well, we shall see about that.” But as any good father does when confronted with fear and relief for their beloved child, he simply growled and shook his son’s neck again. “And next time you Change be smart and bring a small roll of clothing. Although as angry and worried as your mother is, like as not you won’t leave on your own again until you’ve Claimed. And bring… _that_ …inside. We’ll draw the shades and see what you’ve got.”

“But he’s just..”

“ **James.** Do as I ask **.** ”

“Yes, Da.”

But as Bucky and his armful made his way into the raised voices of his mother and sisters, his father’s brows lowered and eyes hooded. That scent, that **strange** scent marring his oldest boy’s ruff. And the remark about the sun…

It seemed like there would be more required for Bucky’s education than he’d wanted to teach at this point.

But wanting had never meant getting and George Barnes knew that all too well. As did most far-flung survivors of their special clan.

He sighed, feeling unexpectedly harsh responsibility weighing upon his shoulders. Hearing the exclamations ahead, he hurried to join his family.

  
  
  



End file.
